


Scorpius And Professor Longbottom's Wholesome Friendship

by IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: BAMF Neville Longbottom, Cinnamon Roll Scorpius Malfoy, Emotional Support Mimbulus Mimbletonia, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom, I Hate JK Rowling But You Can Pry These Characters Out Of My Cold Dead Hands, I'm A Better Character Mom Than Her Anyway, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired By Tumblr, Knitting, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Neville Longbottom Needs a Hug, Past Torture (Mentioned), Past Violence, Scorpius Malfoy & Neville Longbottom Friendship, Scorpius Malfoy Needs a Hug, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter Fluff, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt/pseuds/IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt
Summary: This is based on that one tumblr post that's like pointing out the differences between Soft(tm) Professor Neville and Badass War Neville, I think it was posted by themistrustfulmistress, and I promised this to some random people on Facebook like over a month ago, so here.Scorpius Malfoy is feeling lost at Hogwarts until he strikes up a friendship with kind Professor Longbottom. They have tea, and help each other talk about tough subjects.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 94





	Scorpius And Professor Longbottom's Wholesome Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit from this.
> 
> Also I have so many other things to do that I'm currently ignoring yay

The manor was always dark and kind of quiet. His Father did his best to be active and engaged with him, but Scorpius knew that when he wasn’t there, his Father sank into sadness. 

The whole house reflected sadness, now that he really thought about it. There were old bloodstains he didn’t want to question down in the cellar. The rose garden his mother had once lovingly tended was growing wild and out of control. The ancient brass fixtures of the house held gloom all over the place.

Today was the most lively it had been in years. Today, Scorpius was leaving for Hogwarts for the first time. He was standing in the entryway, underneath an old chandelier, waiting for his Father to stop bustling around and be ready to leave already.

“Father, come on. We need to go now if we want to catch the train.”

His father skidded to a halt in front of him, ponytail in a frazzled mess. “Your trunk is all packed? You’re sure you got everything?”

“Yes. Let’s go already.”

Less than an hour later, Scorpius was boarding the Hogwarts Express, having hugged his father goodbye. He’d pointedly not noticed the tears shimmering in the older Malfoy’s eyes. “I’ll write you, Father.”

“I just hope you have a better time at Hogwarts than I did.” And wasn’t that opening a can of worms. Scorpius knew, of course, about the faded skull marring his father’s forearm. He knew what role Draco Malfoy had played in the war, but he couldn’t blame him. He’d been so young when it had happened, and the man Scorpius had grown up knowing was unfailingly kind and protective.

He hugged his father one more time and stepped onto the train.

That evening, Scorpius was sorted into Slytherin, and met his new best friend: Albus. Albus Potter.

After they’d left the Great Hall, escorted by the House prefects, Scorpius settled in by his bed. He wanted to write a letter home to his father to tell him about the Sorting and about his friend, but he hesitated over including Albus’ last name. His father still held no little animosity towards the Potters, and the Potters, as far as Scorpius could tell, reciprocated in kind.

Father would figure it out anyway; there couldn’t be that many kids saddled with a name like Albus at Hogwarts.

He penned in the name, finished off his letter with a copy of his schedule, and prepared to go to bed.

***

The next morning, First Year Slytherins had Double Herbology in the mornings, followed by Transfiguration.

Scorpius wondered if he could learn enough in Herbology to be able to restore his mother’s rose gardens to their former glory. Sitting at the breakfast table, staring into his plate of eggs, the thought made him more than a little bit melancholy.

“Hey,” Albus said, sliding onto the bench next to him and knocking their shoulders together. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Just... thinking.” Scorpius prodded a lump of egg with his fork and was strangely pleased when it fell apart.

“So, Herbology. Professor Longbottom.” Albus sounded excited. “Dad told me to give him Mum’s love, which I think would be awkward, don’t you?”

“Probably. I mean, he’s a professor.” Somehow, Scorpius had forgotten who all taught at Hogwarts. Professor Longbottom had been on the winning side of the war. He’d fought Scorpius’ father.

Scorpius wondered if Professor Longbottom was going to treat him the way he’d heard stories about Professor Snape treating Harry Potter.

The curse of being a Malfoy.

Albus chattered on about how excited he was for all their classes, but Scorpius couldn’t muster up the same excitement. He spent the time until they needed to leave glaring at his toast like it had personally offended him.

The walk down to Greenhouse One was short, and Scorpius felt himself start to cheer up at the exposure to the sun-baked air. He and Albus got into a short shoving match that abruptly ended as they reached the greenhouse.

Professor Longbottom, along with part of the rest of their class, was standing outside. He smiled at them. Next to Scorpius, Albus waved excitedly.

Ten minutes into class, Scorpius could tell that Professor Longbottom wasn’t at all how he’d expected. He didn’t treat Scorpius any differently than the other students, and he was unfailingly patient.

He also talked to his plants, like, a lot. He sounded almost like a proud father as he coaxed root balls into pots and gently pruned turned-in buds.

He seemed harmless, although that could’ve been the... interesting... sweater he was wearing. It was bright red, with a gold ‘N’ emblazoned on the front. Scorpius supposed the colors made sense; the man was, after all, head of Gryffindor House.

The man in front of him, teaching a class with potting soil smudged across his nose, did not look like the man he’d heard stories about, who’d survived a year of torture to go toe-to-toe with Voldemort’s army.

Mentally, Scorpius shrugged, and turned back to his own pot of soil.

***

Herbology quickly became one of his favorite classes, because Professor Longbottom was always so kind to him. Some of the other teachers he had seemed to harbor some preconceived notions about the Malfoy name, which Scorpius tried to ignore. Some classes, like Muggle Studies, he had to stay quiet and hide in the back of the room during, to avoid pointed questions about his Father and grandfather’s opinions on Muggles.

It was fine. He could deal.

Albus knew it happened, of course, he had all the same classes as Scorpius, but after one uncomfortable incident that involved Albus on his tiptoes staring down a professor ruthlessly, Scorpius implored him to leave it be. “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me,” he said, after one particularly grueling class with a guest lecturer from the Ministry.

The guest lecturer had apparently been tortured by Lucius Malfoy during the war. He hadn’t liked seeing Scorpius.

Scorpius didn’t know how to tell him that Lucius Malfoy was rotting in Azkaban, as good as dead, and he didn’t agree with the old man’s ideals anyway, so he’d just stayed quiet. Albus, beside him, had been vibrating with tension, obviously dying to stand up and rip into the man. Scorpius had kept him in check with a gentle hand on his thigh.

“You don’t  _ need  _ me fighting your battles, sure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t  _ want  _ to,” Albus objected.

Scorpius just sighed and pulled him to the Great Hall for dinner.

***

It was around Christmas when he was cornered by a group of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors in a dusty corner of the library. Most of them were also first years, but a few were second years, and he spotted one fourth year.

It was late evening, only about half an hour until curfew. He was sitting at an old table with an even older book open in front of him, trying to write an essay on the theoretical applications of Transfiguration. It was the last assignment before the holidays, and he wanted to get it finished quickly.

“Malfoy,” one of the second years (Boot? Henry Boot, he thought) sneered at him. “What’s your kind of filth doing in our nice library?”

Scorpius knew he should keep his mouth shut and his head down, but he’d had a long day. He was tired, and his temper was short. He didn’t want to put up with any of this. “Studying. I am, after all, a student.”

It was past curfew by the time he managed to pick himself up off the library floor and start limping down the halls on his way to the Slytherin common room. His head was throbbing, and he was pretty sure he was going to have to ask Albus to Episkey his nose.

The hallways were dark, and he prayed he wouldn’t get caught. The last thing he needed was detention for being out after curfew, and, he thought ruefully, looking down at his rumpled appearance, probably for brawling as well.

He paused as he passed a small alcove set into the wall. He’d sat there to read before, it was a little window seat tucked away behind a pillar. There was a soft glow of light coming from behind it.

Scorpius inched closer.

Professor Longbottom was sitting on the window seat, staring out into the night as snow swirled against the window. He was gently stroking what looked like a  _ Mimbulus Mimbletonia.  _ An illuminated ball of light floated above his head.

Scorpius’ foot caught on his robes and he tripped, catching himself on the pillar and letting out a shocked squeak.

Professor Longbottom whirled to face outward, slipping off the window seat and falling into a duelling stance with his wand raised defiantly. There were tear tracks on his face. “Who’s there?”

“Um, hi?” Scorpius squeaked, from his half-fallen position.

Professor Longbottom poked his head (and his wand) cautiously around the pillar, face relaxing as he noticed Scorpius. Then his brows drew together in concern. “Scorpius, what happened to your face?”

“Er, Boot’s boot.” Scorpius tried a hopeful smile, wincing when it pulled at his split lip. From the look on Professor Longbottom’s face, it wasn’t very successful.

“Merlin, Scorpius! Come sit down and let me take a look.”

Scorpius let himself be ushered to the window seat, and sat as Professor Longbottom stood in front of him.

“Okay, I’m gonna use a couple of charms to heal your bruises and cuts.” His wand swished through the air as he spoke, and Scorpius felt the soreness recede. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“One of them kicked my knee. That’s how I got on the ground.” Scorpius turned his head to look out the window.

“One of them?” Professor Longbottom’s voice was controlled, but definitely angry. “How many were there?”

“Seven. I think.” Outside, the wind picked up, howling desperately. Scorpius could sympathize.

“Seven. That’s- that’s so far past bullying I don’t even know… why did they do this?” Professor Longbottom sat next to him, obviously trying to project calmness and trustworthiness. It seemed to be working.

“I’m a Malfoy.” Could he just get his detention and go to bed?

Professor Longbottom sighed, heavily. “The war was… hard. It was, for all of us. But that doesn’t excuse them doing that.” His hands sought out his cactus again, and it let out a pleased trilling noise.

“Yeah, but you were on the right side of it. You kept the resistance at Hogwarts going, you killed the snake. You’re a hero. My family were Death Eaters.”

Professor Longbottom almost flinched at the reminder, and the cactus made a concerned little noise. “That’s not- those things weren’t who I am. They were what I did. That doesn’t make me a hero. And maybe your dad was a Death Eater, and his dad too, but your mum wasn’t. And you definitely aren’t.” He reached out and laid a hand on Scorpius’ shoulder. “You’re a good kid, and this shouldn’t be happening to you.”

Scorpius didn’t totally understand. “You  _ are  _ a hero, though. You were a total badass, everyone knows the stories.”

Professor Longbottom suddenly looked old. Logically, Scorpius knew that he was the same age as his father, but he didn’t look it. He supposed memories could do that to you, his father still woke up screaming and begging someone to stop every now and then. Scorpius could hear him clear across the manor, and his pleas always tore at Scorpius’ heart. Maybe Professor Longbottom did that too.

He snapped his attention back to what the older man was saying. “I did some things that can be construed as heroic, I suppose. But I’m not a hero. I- I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’re just a kid.”

“You can tell me,” Scorpius said. “Father did, sometimes, because I asked him to. He wouldn’t’ve, otherwise, but it was too much for him to deal with on his own so I wanted to help.”

“I shouldn’t,” Professor Longbottom said, “But I suppose you’re in a position to understand better than most.”

He paused for a long moment, and Scorpius waited.

“I killed people,” Professor Longbottom said, quietly. “And I don’t think I deserve to be called a hero when I’ve done that, even if they were people in service to Vol- to Him.”

“You can say it,” Scorpius said. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” said Professor Longbottom. He was looking at Scorpius strangely, and a little sadly. “You’re too mature for your age.”

Scorpius shrugged. “After Mum died, Dad kind of… retreated into himself. I dealt on my own for a while before he got it together. And I’ve been dealing with stuff from other students since I got here. I kind of had to grow up fast.”

Professor Longbottom smiled shakily at him. “All the more reason for me not to unload all this on you. I was very unprofessional. Please forgive me?”

“Of course,” Scorpius answered.

“Let’s take you to the Hospital Wing then, and get that knee looked at. And then to McGonagall to talk about the people bullying you.”

***

After Christmas of his first year, Scorpius had had semi-regular meetings for tea with Professor Longbottom. As a result, he felt like he knew the man pretty well. He was musing on the odd pairing, a Death Eater’s son and an ex-freedom fighter striking up a friendship, when he heard a loud murmuring of voices from across the Great Hall one day toward the beginning of fourth year term.

He pressed a kiss to Albus’ cheek and wandered out to the entryway to see what was going on.

There was a crowd gathered around the message board there, watching something.

Albus shouldered through the group of people, coming to a halt when he saw Professor Longbottom sitting on the floor under the board, cradling his  _ Mimbulus Mimbletonia  _ and looking thoroughly upset.

Scorpius moved closer and put a hand on the man’s shoulder, his eyebrows silently asking for an explanation.

Professor Longbottom pointed up at a poster announcing a reward for someone’s missing pet toad, and Scorpius understood. The professor had had a pet toad when he’d first come to Hogwarts, and had gotten quite attached to poor Trevor. Since then, he’d had a soft spot a mile wide for most amphibians. The thought of some - he checked the sign again, and yup - some poor first year losing his toad was sure to upset the man.

He patted him a couple times on the shoulder and left him to his cactus as the crowd dispersed.

***

Later in the common room, people were talking about it. “Professor Longbottom was acting kinda weird, wasn’t he?” Albus asked, as he and Scorpius sat pressed together on one of the squashy green sofas.

“Yeah,” chimed in a younger girl, from the rug in front of the fireplace. “Are we sure that’s actually Professor Longbottom? He didn’t get, like, kidnapped and someone else Polyjuiced into him or anything, right?”

“It was him,” Scorpius said. “He has his moments sometimes.”

“I’m just saying,” the girl argued back. “Professor Longbottom got, like, tortured by Death Eaters and faced down an army and killed Voldemort’s snake. He doesn’t cry over a lost toad.”

Albus, fully able to tell that Scorpius was about to say something stupid, squeezed his boyfriend’s hand in warning.

Scorpius, predictably, ignored him. “That’s not a man you just described. That’s some one dimensional hero figure. Professor Longbottom is a person, and he has nuances and complicated feelings just like all the rest of us.”

She was looking at him in shock, and Albus patted his hand reassuringly. “Scorp’s right. We kinda put people on a pedestal a lot, and it hurts them sometimes. Happens to my dad too.”

She was nodding slowly, and excused herself to go work on some homework. Contented, Scorpius nestled back further into Albus’ side, intending to nap until he went to meet Professor Longbottom for lunch.

***

“So,” he said, as he entered the other man’s office and said hello to the cactus. “Since you displayed an emotion earlier, people are wondering if you’re really the stoic war hero who did all those brave things.”

Professor Longbottom chuckled, then swore as a few stitches slipped off his knitting needles. “Well, pardon my American, but Voldemort was a punk-ass bitch, and he deserved it. Now, do you think the mandrakes would prefer orange or black collars on their sweaters?”

Scorpius smiled as he sat down and poured them both some tea. “I’d say orange. And I talked to McGonagall about interning for you next year, she signed off on it.”

“That’s lovely,” Professor Longbottom said. “I’ll put you to work knitting for plants.”

"That works for me," Scorpius answered. "Father send his regards, by the way."

Professor Longbottom's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You did tell him I don't blame him for anything he did during the War, didn't you? We were all just scared kids back then."

"I told him," Scorpius sipped his tea. "He may have cried."

"Well, that's all right."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you liked it, drop a comment or kudos! Thanks!! :)


End file.
